Reinventing Life
by Ariali
Summary: The life and times of T. M. Riddle, Ravenclaw.
1. Spark

_A.N. I've finally found inspiration to turn the idea bumping around at the back of my mind into reality. I give no promises of regular updates, long chapters, or ownership of Rowling's universe. This story is still lacking a title, any suggestions are welcomed along with suggestions on how to create Riddle as a Ravenclaw. If you have read my other story, you will notice that this has a very different writing style, with which I am still experimenting, and may be tweaking as the story continues._

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><p>Tom Marvolo Riddle was a queer child to be certain. From the moment of his birth—a sobbing, desperate mother arriving on the door step on a stormy new year's eve—he had always been… different. Perhaps the early exposure to death—his only relative fading from this world not minutes after his first breath—had a subconscious affect on his psyche. Perhaps it was the later months, neglected by a busy orphanage matron who had no time for an unusually quiet child who didn't cry for attention like the rest. A child who grew up too fast finding solace in books as the years passed, who shied away from human contact with those his age could eventually be returned to the normal path of life as directed by social standards, given that the behavior was noticed and discouraged early on. But the rather unobservant, if well-meaning lady in charge of caring for some thirty odd children had no time in the already overflowing schedule to guide a young child back on to the path of normalcy which he had strayed off of. As months grew to years, a once precocious and slightly antisocial figure became one who seldom spoke to humans; instead preferring to spend hours reading books far too large for a child like him or pass the moments exchanging knowledge and secrets whispered hisses to the serpents.<p>

The other orphanage children reacted to the abnormal as human beings are wont to do; fear of the unknown is a powerful motivator. The avoidance, taunting, and neglect were easily ignored, at least on the surface, or countered with eerily mature retorts. Accusations of blame—he was alleged to be the one responsible for all crimes occurring in the orphanage, from stealing toys to mutilating pets—were combated with cool reasoning and lack of evidence, and though the reputation gained could not be entirely nullified, the affect of such claims was not easily visible. The bullying and on occasion outright violence—the woman running the orphanage was little to no help and an expert at ignoring the obvious—escalated instead, hostility converting from verbal to physical as attempts at emotional abuse were proven outwardly unfruitful.

Separated from his peers, the child turned to those things in life which could show him no derision and do him no harm: books. The secrets of the universe lay hidden scrawled among the tomes found inside a forgotten library, once a common sanctuary for bibliophiles, now lost behind a derelict door which the normal curiosity of children seemed to have ignored. The dusty room became the one place of peace inside his hellish existence. Tutored by ancient authors, guided by famous writers, the lonesome child bloomed inside while outwardly remaining an unchanged, downtrodden, orphaned waif, biding time until a kindly stranger could be found to take in such a child.

The combined scapegoat and scholar—a perfect recipe for social disaster—discovered new sources of interaction while shunned by surrounding children. What was originally an accidental encounter with a seemingly magical talking garden snake became a series of educating and encouraging conversations, both with his first serpentine acquaintance and later with other reptiles who came as rumors of a snake speaker spread. The legless creatures became his friends, confidents, mentors, and eventually the family he had never thought was wanted. A cracking mind and fragile self-esteem was slowly patched by congenial interactions with intelligent beings that saw him as more than just a freak of nature.

The human residents of the orphanage greeted this change with suspicion and fear. An undersized, intelligent boy became a much less attractive outlet for aggression when surrounded by poisonous protectors. Innocent habits of hissing under one's breath became suddenly more sinister when directed toward those which could reply in the same language. And so the other orphans turned to other targets, ones less likely to result in a frantic ride in an ambulance. Likewise as he was guarded from harm at the hands of bullies, he in turn hid his new friends and protectors from animal control, his efforts for their concealment aided in the development what he now knew to be _magic_, previously thought to have been simply a series of odd coincidences occurring throughout his life.

This magic was a gift, the only one ever received throughout his childhood. This power, so unimaginably strange yet uncannily familiar, gave freedom to a part of him which had never before been noticed as sealed off. One of the many snakes told marvelous tales of wisdom and friendship and light, of invitations sent from a magical castle inviting children to abandon the mundane reality and join a world where the extraordinary became commonplace. With stars in his eyes, such tales became inspiration for the hopes and dreams of a young child, now fascinated with any mention of the supernatural in an effort to understand that which is inexplicable by normal folk, those who he learned were called muggles. Days were wasted staring into the sky, waiting with breathless anticipation for a letter which would not come for several years yet.

Reality set in then, after nearly a week of fervent prayer. The child had yet to reach his eighth birthday, and no matter how mature a child such as him may be, there would be no owl until much later. The spark was kindled, however, and from it would grow a raging inferno to set alight the wizarding world.


	2. Introduction

_A.N. The second chapter includes Tom's first encounter with Dumbledore and official introduction to the wizarding world. This is quite a bit different from cannon, mainly because Tom is purposefully OOC, and I didn't have the acutal cannon event in front of me while writing this. I am still taking suggestions for a title for this fiction, and if anyone wants to beta this story I'm accepting offers._

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><p>He could hear softly spoken words just outside his door as the footsteps which had proceeded up the stairs paused before knocking on the entrance to the room, hesitant to disturb him. The reputation he had gathered during his stay at the orphanage was one no one was quite certain how to describe, but those with superstitious inclinations, a category into which the majority of those inhabiting the building fell, commonly avoided places he was known to frequent. The voice in question, undoubtedly that of the matron who had seemed to delight in interrupting his solitude before the silent companionship was formed with the serpents who resided in his room, stated a brief warning to whoever owned the second pair of feet which had sounded in the hallway. Tom Riddle was a <em>strange<em> child, she cautioned. Just how correct that supposition might be proven to be in later years was something none of them could have guessed.

"Tom? Are you in there? I have a visitor to see you." The door creaked open, revealing the women, now prematurely aged by the antics of children, and a man who, despite his lack of youth, seemed to exude childish vitality. She directed the man to step inside and invade the one sanctuary Tom knew of without taking into account his library. "This is Professor Dumbledore. He's here to see you about a," there was paused, as if there was uncertainty about the proper wording, "scholarship to his school." With introductions having been proffered, she promptly fled the room, polite pretense weakened by a stare she found unnatural.

Looking at Professor Dumbledore gave one the impression of having met an exceedingly eccentric, colorblind, and congenial man who wasn't completely right in the head, yet despite any signs of insanity managed to exude an air of brilliant intelligence and secret knowledge. After all, many a genius throughout history is associated with characteristic quirks, such as Einstein's uncontrollable tresses. The human currently occupying Tom's doorway was no exception to the pattern. On a second inspection, however, Tom's first impression having been quickly discarded in exchange for a more in depth study, the thin veil of a characteristic which couldn't quite be called innocence was inept at camouflaging deeper traits and could not completely cover the scheming tint in the twinkling eyes.

Tom Riddle in comparison was similarly accustomed to hiding that which the wider world was not welcome to see. In his case deep intelligence lay concealed behind the veneer of a solemn, shy boy, who despite exhibiting very little evidence of uncanny behavior, besides his mutual attraction with snakes, radiated an air which whispered quietly of in the ear of those watching, hinting at danger and cautioning the self preservation instincts of those who may approach.

The meeting of these two wizards, an event to face repetition on less amicable terms in later years, was one of seeming unimportance at the time. Evaluations were made and discarded in favor of more observation and the moment of silent scrutiny finished with a near whispered question posed by the younger of the two.

"This scholarship I have, it's not to a normal school, is it, sir?" Bright blue eyes sharpened in interest, looking at the young boy with a deeper light.

"Not exactly, no."

"It's for people like me, then?"

"That is correct."

Tom paused for a moment, well aware of both ways this interaction could proceed. Perhaps this Professor Dumbledore had been charged with the delivery of a long anticipated letter inviting him into a world of wizardry and witchcraft. However, a school described as being atypical and specially organized as to cater to children similar to himself had another possibility disregarding sorcery; the orphanage matron had on multiple occasions mentioned sending him to an asylum for the clinically insane.

"Perhaps you could describe this… school of your in more detail," Tom spoke after a brief moment's contemplation. "If you wouldn't mind, I think I should like to know more before I commit to attending."

"Ah, yes. Tell me, Mr. Riddle, has anything strange ever happened around you? Anything that you can't explain, perhaps when you were feeling some strong emotion?" The professor paused, studying Tom for any signs of affirmation. When the boy gave a slight nod but failed to elaborate, Professor Dumbledore waited.

"There have been a few times where there were some interesting coincidences," Tom finally conceded, staring off into space after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "People forgetting to notice me when I was in trouble. Things that I had lost turning up in odd places," He turned a piercing glance back to the older man. "No offense intended, professor, but I'm not sure why a _school teacher_ should care that kind of thing."

"I did say that this scholarship wasn't to a normal school," the professor replied. "Tell me, Tom. Do you believe in magic?" Abruptly, he reached into a pocket previously unnoticed and removed an interesting and very official looking letter, addressed in green ink on thick parchment to one _Mr. T. Riddle_. With a flourish the post was delivered, to be opened carefully and subsequently examined with an air of intense scrutiny and eager anticipation.

Tom was ecstatic; after such an elongated period of time, centuries, it almost seemed to have been since that fateful encounter with his primary serpentine friend, the wizarding world was his to become a member of. Dumbledore took intrigued notices of the apparent enthusiasm and lack of disbelief. Perhaps the child was previously informed of his wizarding status, despite being categorized as a muggle-born?

"I see this letter comes not entirely unexpected," the softly voiced words breaking through the boy's mental haze of elation. A brief evaluation of the level of trustworthiness which could be given to the adult in front of him was made by Tom.

"Do a lot of people speak to snakes that you know of, sir? They can be quite useful both for teaching about the world of magic, as well as in other situations."

"Snakes?" there was an obvious element of surprise in his tone, as well as suspicion. "Well, no, it isn't a very common ability, though there are well known cases. You can talk to them?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well. That _is _interesting. I would suggest keeping that talent to yourself when you enter Hogwarts, though. It could attract the wrong sort of attention."

"I'll keep that in mind, professor. Is there anything else I should know? You said I had received a scholarship, how would I gain access to that money in order to pay for supplies." The child was eager to move on with the conversation and for Professor Dumbledore to leave in order for him to be given the freedom to wander into the realm he had dreamed of for the last era of his life.

"Of course, of course, Tom. Now, first you must find a pub called the Leaky Cauldron, run by a man also called Tom. That should be easy to remember, as he shares the same name with you…"

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><p>Several hours later, that same Tom, owner of the establishment acting as the waypoint between the muggle and magical worlds, watched with an enjoyment that would never grow old as the typical event of a child being introduced to their first magical experience occurred. The eyes of a young boy widened, awe filled and shining with anticipation of this new kingdom of knowledge and magic. Quickly shuttered behind a mask of casual disinterest though it may be, such an exhibition of childlike wonder and innocent appreciation was one of the things that gave the elder Tom a hope for tomorrow's generation.<p>

The child absorbed such a sight for a few moments before returning to reality with the elder bartender's chuckle. Aware that he must have been gaping like a simpleton, his hurried hands straightened already neat, if worn clothing and purposeful footsteps set off towards the towering marble columns of Gringotts wizarding bank. The man followed the path of the small child with his eyes until two witches unknowingly strode into his line of sight, then returned to the occupation of providing beverages to customers who had quickly become impatient with his inattention.

After a brief errand to obtain funds, Tom Marvolo Riddle set off into the wizarding world, hidden snake wrapped around his arm, gold clinking in his pocket, and high expectations of the world he was entering.


End file.
